Peter S. Quinn Poems

The days of my days are flowing
On to the voices of silence
Like everything slumbered is going
Though calm delights trance
...

Wishful you wishful I and wishful thinking,
I had a dream last night and without knowing;
Can I touch it can I smell, without linking?
For my wish from the dreaming is all going.
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There is the joy of strangeness,
The gliding clouds drifting;
Within every ebbing freshness,
That the mist is lifting.
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A night is now coming in
Into truly worth and spin
The flowers grown in shadows
From summer's last glows
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A bird is a bird for another
With everything in its own day
Like a summer song coming together
In every tone and joyful play
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Í dag er dagur
dagsins í dag,
þar lendur tímans
hafa sáð sín lönd.
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Newborn is this day,
Coming fresh out of the blue
- Energy renews!
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Between the injustice
We shall overcome -
Someone on the street cries
Do you know where she's from?
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Old people and young
Making this world much better
For every heart to long
A strike to beat trendsetter
...